Love is Not Love
by Frakme
Summary: I had another story floating in my head and started writing the following but it doesn't really fit! So have written this as a little one shot. Set a few days before Bill and Fleur's wedding, Ginny once again tries to understand why Harry has put their relationship on hold, and makes certain promises to him


**Love is not love.**

**I had another story floating in my head and started writing the following but it doesn't really fit! So have written this as a little one shot. Set a few days before Bill and Fleur's wedding, Ginny once again tries to understand why Harry has put their relationship on hold, and makes certain promises to him. I can't say I am completely satisfied with it but, ho hum!**

**Disclaimer. I own nothing here yadadada.**

Harry sat in the kitchen trying to untangle yards of garland that somehow Crookshanks had managed to get into, despite Molly Weasley folding it carefully and storing it in a hugh cupboard, in a locked box. He did ask Fred and George to help with a bit of magic, but mysteriously, they were busy. Hermione and Ron had also been dispatched to various wedding related tasks, the aim of which was to keep the three of them apart as much as possible.

He looked up as Ginny tottered into the room, attempting to balance a large pile of tablecloths, napkins, napkin rings and coasters that her mother had piled on her to take down for cleaning, Sweating slightly, she managed to dump the pile on the table, on top of the pile of garlands that Harry had untangled. Harry rolled his eyes as Ginny muttered an apology and attempted to move the table linen to somewhere else in the already crowded kitchen. She then sat down and started to help Harry with the garlands.

They worked in silence, occasionally glancing at each other. After a short while, Ginny dropped the garland she was working on and fixed Harry with a penetrating gaze.

"Harry?"

"Yeah, Gin?", Harry looked up, eyebrows knitting at the nervous tone in Ginny's voice.

"You know what you said," Ginny said, slowly "about us, and You-Know-Who coming after me, well, you do realise that is bollocks?"

"What do you mean?" he replied, though with a knot in his stomach, he had a strong inkling.

"Look, he is going to come after me and my family anyway. He knows we are close to you and we are the biggest bunch of blood traitors to boot".

Harry swallowed nervously, feeling guilty once again that he was putting the Weasley family at risk, just by his presence. They had been nothing but kind to him, making him feel as though he was already part of their family. Both Molly and Arthur had lost family members in the first wizarding war, and George had also lost an ear protecting him during his evacuation from the Dursleys'. He felt a bigger pang when he remembered Moody, a dear friend of the Weasleys had lost his life as well.

Looking at the stubborn look on the red-haired girl's face, he sighed heavily. He knew deep inside that she wouldn't let this go. He was surprised that, when they had the original discussion, she didn't put up more of a fight. However, the events following Snape's brutal murder of their beloved headmaster had left them all emotionally weakened.

"I explained my reasons, Ginny" he said gently, "I have something I have to do. I can't have distractions. Dumbledore entrusted me, Ron and Hermione with this task and I can't involve anyone else." He held up his hand when Ginny tried to speak.

"I really think I love you," Harry said softly, taking Ginny's hand,"and I am scared of getting you hurt. I am already putting your family at risk. Hermione's had to put her parents into hiding."

Ginny nodded and squeezed Harry's hand.

"I understand. And I know that we don't know when you will be back, when all this will be over. When we can have a normal life."

"A normal life?" laughed Harry, hollowly. "That is the one thing I have never had. What I wouldn't give for a normal life! If, no, _when_ I succeed, when the light side wins, then we can talk about you and me, and a normal life. With a house, a job and some little wizards and witches running around. But it just isn't possible right now. And if we continue what we started then I won't be fully committed to what needs to be done."

Ginny pulled her hand away from Harry's and looked away. Blinking back the tears that suddenly sprang in her eyes she stood up and looked at him.

"I will wait for you, Harry." she said, and walked from the room, holding tightly to herself. He listened as she walked slowly up the stairs and to her room.

_A few weeks later._

Harry was on guard duty outside the tent, while Hermione and Ron slept inside. He found himself thinking on Ginny again, wondering what she was doing, who she was seeing. He had kept a picture of her in the mokeskin purse, with his other treasures, and he was looking at it, seeing her smiling and waving at him silently from the photo.

A rustle of the tent opening caused him to look up and he saw Hermione coming out.

"Can't sleep?" he asked. She shook her head and sat down next to him. He quickly stuffed the photo back into the bag but not before Hermione saw it. She looked at him before rummaging around in her beaded bag, eventually pulling out a piece of parchment.

"Ginny gave this to me to give to you," she said quietly, passing it to him. "Just haven't had the opportunity until now".

Spreading out the parchment he realise it was some kind of poem, written in Ginny's clear, cursive script. He read the poem, folded it up tightly and placed it into his mokeskin pouch.

"Thanks, 'Mione" he said, with the ghost of a smile. "So was Shakespeare a wizard then?"

Hermione shook her head.

"He was a muggle," she explained, "but much loved in the Wizarding world, his works being brought in by Muggleborns. I'll take over now if you want to get some sleep?"

Harry shook his head.

"No, I'm fine."

They both gazed at the stars, both thinking about flaming red hair.

* * *

Let me not to the marriage of true minds

Admit impediments. Love is not love

Which alters when it alteration finds,

Or bends with the remover to remove:

O no! it is an ever-fixed mark

That looks on tempests and is never shaken;

It is the star to every wandering bark,

Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.

Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks

Within his bending sickle's compass come:

Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,

But bears it out even to the edge of doom.

If this be error and upon me proved,

I never writ, nor no man ever loved.

- Sonnet 116, William Shakespear


End file.
